Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. ‘Yes, do,’ approved Lucilla. And two other ladies.
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